


No Longer Home

by ElizabethJaneway1158



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Minor Character Death, major angst, mid-season 7, patented janeway depression streak, strained friendship/relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethJaneway1158/pseuds/ElizabethJaneway1158
Summary: Kathryn receives some devistating news and cannot bring herself to tell Chakotay.Minor character death.





	No Longer Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen8462](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/gifts).



> For my return to the Voyager fandom. A prompt from jhelenoftrek. My love and first true Beta. 
> 
> Kathryn receives some horrible news about a crew memeber in the data stream and keeps it from Chakotay until it nearly undoes her. Super angst. 
> 
> I changed it and had the news be about her.

She’s been distant as of late. Cold. Seemingly lifeless; the vivacity and determination leached from her by the constant trial of captaining a ship through the dangers of uncharted space. 

 

He feels it too. The rest of them are not immune to the harsh grip of uncertainty. The longer they travel, the less likely they are to return home. As the years pass, the apex of their lives dwindles with them. Chakotay knows she holds herself responsible, pins the guilt on her heart as she does the pips to her neck. 

 

Despite the all-time-low of morale, this shift is abnormally more so. The intensity of bitter remorse radiates from her like plasma, bright and hot, permeating the bridge and all who occupy it. She’s perched right beside him, yet she exists hundreds of light years away. 

 

He attempts a small joke, an act that—under even the most irritable circumstances—once a shift usually earns him a tense grin that doesn’t quite reach the rest of her features. It’s nothing compared to what he used to receive from her. 

 

At this point in their journey, Chakotay is willing to accept the smallest of reactions. Not only does she not humor him with courteous acknowledgement, his remark proves to darken her countenance even further. Slim fingers grip the edge of her chair. Her knuckles blanch under the pressure she exerts.

 

If he isn’t mistaken, it appears as if she is about to be ill. His watchful eye barely registers an infinitesimal quiver of her bottom lip before she arches a steely eyebrow with a deep inhale. The ferocity of her Captain’s facade settling into place, wiping what little light she has left from her dull eyes. 

 

“Commander, you have the Bridge.” Her command nearly cracks. The strain of holding her stern demeanor grates over her vocal chords. 

 

Chakotay can only stare in disbelief and unease as the captain swiftly exits the Bridge. Her pace bordering dangerously on a sprint. As if she couldn’t make it to the sanctuary of her Ready Room soon enough. 

 

What has he done? Was it what he said? A simple reference to one of Tom’s ancient colloquialisms:

 

_ “You know, I was once told ‘there’s no place like home’.”  _

 

A flippant remark. Not intended to weigh on her already impossible burden. Chakotay shakes his head in shame, frustration bubbling just below the surface. 

 

She isn’t the only one commanding this vessel, held accountable for the decisions made, expected to lead the crew safely home. They’re meant to be a team. He’s told her countless times that her struggle is his own; that the journey is theirs to weather together. 

 

The stress of time and repeated hardship fosters a newfound strife that takes its pound of flesh at any opportunity. Slowly carving away at the core of them, she distances herself further with each and every argument. 

 

He’s had enough. She never confides in him anymore. He stands by as she hurls her anger and resentment at him. There is only so much he can bear, his own optimism beginning to slip with her complete lack thereof. If she insists on continuing down this twisted path, Chakotay is sure he will lose her to the darkness. 

 

He needs her, craves the Kathryn he knew before. It’s been months since he’s broached the subject of her well-being. Beyond the mere tribulations of each passing difficulty they meet. 

 

Always ship’s business, never personal. Not that it should be, just that it used to not be outside of the realm of possibility. The idea that she have any kind of emotional response. 

 

“Tuvok, take the Bridge. I need to discuss something with the Captain.” 

 

“Yes, Commander.” 

 

The Ready Room door denies his request for access. Strange. Chakotay looks to Tuvok; the Vulcan simply regards him with a curious stare. 

 

Upon keying in his override, Chakotay finds the lights off and the room empty. 

 

“Computer, locate Captain Janeway.”

 

**_“Captain Janeway requests ‘Do Not Disturb’. Privacy lock code: Janeway Lambda-three-one-zero.”_ **

 

He groans, leaning against her desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of all the tactics she’s employed over the last six months, this tops them all. 

 

“Computer, Commander Chakotay override: Eagle-one-five-eight. Clearance level seven.” 

 

**_“Override denied.”_ **

 

Fine. The ship isn’t that large. He’s sure he knows exactly where find her. Making the decision to abandon his post, Chakotay leaves deck one through the Captain’s private exit. 

 

“Chakotay to Tuvok. You have the Bridge for the remainder of the shift.” 

 

_ “Acknowledged.”  _

 

Heading straight for his first assumption, he finds his instincts suit him well. 

 

There’s no need for sensors and technology to find her. The door to her quarters is locked and none of the three emergency overrides will bid him entrance. He taps his com.

 

“Chakotay to the Captain.”

 

His badge chirps, the message refused from its intended destination. This has gone far enough. 

 

“Kathryn.” He knocks soundly on the titanium alloy. “I know you’re in there.” 

 

Nothing. 

 

“Kath—“

 

_ “Do not disturb, Commander.”  _ Even the flat reincarnation of her voice over his com sounds crowded by choked back tears. 

 

“It seems you are already ‘disturbed’. Please, let me—“ The com interrupts his transmission. Signaling the message incompletion. 

 

Chakotay stifles his aggravation the best he can, his concern warring with the impulse to be hurt by her self-isolation. 

 

He marches down the corridor and breezes into his own quarters. Practically tearing off his uniform and heading for the sonic shower. Perhaps, an actual shower would loosen the knots in his shoulders and stomach. 

 

To his credit, he is able to unwind partially for at least twenty minutes. He towels his hair dry and tosses his discarded uniform pieces in the ‘fresher. 

 

_ Spirits! Why does she have to be so stubborn?  _

 

_ What would have her leave in the middle of her shift?  _

 

_ Are they to that point now? She’s so angry that she cannot even stand to look at him?  _

 

Picking up his badge from the floor he pages her. Still no answer. Grumbling, Chakotay sets it on his nightstand. Leaving it be for the rest of the evening. If it’s space she wants, he’ll give her space. Just for tonight. 

 

He dresses in his standard issue sweats and undershirt, planning on stewing in his living area until he wears himself out. Running over every conversation in the past week, extrapolating bits and pieces he thinks may clue him in on her thought process. 

 

Then again, she’s never had an affinity for being predictable. Heaven forbid that Kathryn let him in, seek out help before her state of mind conjures her unreasonable need for rash decisions and grand gestures of sacrifice. 

 

He sits on his couch, surrounding himself with reports and diagnostic checks. He mumbles gruffly to himself, hoping he can clear his head and focus without pouring a glass or four of—

 

His badge chirps without a message. He nearly stumbles to retrieve it, stubbing his toe just as it comes to life once more. 

 

_ “Chakotay?”  _

 

Kathryn.  _ Gods.  _ She sounds lost and broken. Without a second thought, or dressing properly, Chakotay is out the door and down the corridor. 

 

He chimes the door. Tests his override.  _ Still locked out.  _

 

“Kathryn?” He knocks. “Kathryn. You paged me.” 

 

What if she’s done something? She wouldn’t. Would she? She could be injured or ill. Unable to answer the locked door. He wonders if she’s locked the EMH out as well.

 

“Kathryn! Are you alright? I need to know that you—“ 

 

The doors swish open gracefully and he bounds in. The lights are off, atmosphere cold. Cold even for him. Where is she?

 

“Kathryn? Are you alright?” Badge in hand, he’s ready to page the Doctor. 

 

Her pajama-clad form wanders into the common room. He squints to see her clearly. Eyes red, face scrubbed clean, her hair still holds its usual style, possibly looking a bit tousled by tugging fingers. She doesn’t appear as if she’s been to sleep yet. 

 

“You called. What is it?” Chakotay’s hand reaches out for her, narrowly missing her elbow as she passes by him. She looks to be in a trance, unseeing; his presence isn’t acknowledged until she reaches her desk. Laying down a few padds, her gaze remains trained on the spaces between them. 

 

“Nothing, Chakotay. It’s nothing.” She waves him off. “I’m fine. Must’ve commed you by mistake.” Deflated and smaller than he’s ever seen her before, Kathryn makes her way back to the bedroom. 

 

“Kathryn,” he admonishes. “It’s obviously not ‘nothing. You called me here.” She ignores him and continues her retreat. 

 

“What? What is so terrible that you have to shut me out at every turn?” Chakotay is unable to keep the rising frustration from coloring his words. “‘Do not disturb’? Do you have any idea how—“

 

He stops, not willing to add insult to injury. His feet itch to follow her, his conscience advises against it. Kathryn reappears from behind the safety of the wall, face drawn and pale, she thrusts a padd into his hands. 

 

“There. Take it. Please.” She sniffles and clears her throat. “I’ve read it so many times, I don’t need it anymore.” The hum of the warp engine nearly swallows her last feeble remark. 

 

He reads eagerly. A transmission from Admiral Paris. Her ship? Her captaincy? Are they relieving her of command? Bringing her up on charges? Chakotay continues through a pleasant update of all of the Federation developments, Earth happenings, and—

 

_ Kathryn, it is with a heavy heart and utmost sorrow that I must inform you of your mother’s passing. Her illness was quite sudden and swift to take it’s hold.  _

 

_ She received the finest medical care and went peacefully surrounded by family and friends. She spoke of you often and we were deeply disappointed that her mind began to leave a month before our first attempt to put something together for the data stream. Gretchen never for a second thought that Voyager was lost to us and didn’t let us forget that her daughter simply wouldn’t give up on her duty.  _

 

_ She was so proud of you, Kathryn. We all are. I apologize to require the data stream to send you word. By the time this reaches you, she will have been gone for nearly a month.  _

 

_ Phoebe plans to send you an audio file compiling the incomplete messages and letters your mother left for you. I’ve also been told to inform you that your grandmother’s wedding band and pearls have been placed in your Federation deposit, awaiting their rightful owner.  _

 

_ Stay the course, Captain. Your mission is nearly complete. You have most definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty. The Federation commends you for your service. Earth is anxiously awaiting Voyager’s arrival. Ready to welcome you home with open arms.  _

 

_ Godspeed, _

 

_ Adm. O. Paris 6734-0007 _

 

The news drops into the pit of his stomach like a lead weight.  _ Gods, Kathryn.  _ The stream was received a week ago. She’s held onto this, suffering in silence. 

 

Chakotay sets the padd on her coffee table, inching his way further into the depths of her quarters. Her labored breath echoes in his ears, it’s loud and shuddering. His body trembles in sympathy; her back is to him when he rounds the corner, she’s perched on the opposite end of her bed. 

 

“Kathryn, I—“

 

“You’ve got what you came for. Please… leave.” Her shoulders shake and her hand clasps tightly over her mouth. 

 

“ _ Kathryn.”  _ Chakotay kneels hesitantly at her side. “I’m so sorry.” She flinches at his questing touch. A gentle hand over hers resting on a silk-covered thigh. 

 

“Not as sorry as I am.” Her wavered reply shocks and pains him.

 

“Kathryn. You have nothing to apologize for.” She hasn’t pushed him away yet, he moves in front of her. Both hands running over her arms and shoulders. Doing his best to massage warmth and life back into her. 

 

“It’s my fault we’re here. My fault we’ll never return to Earth. My fault my mother had—had to— _ d-die al-lone.” _ Kathryn groans in shame as the thought catches in her throat. 

 

“Oh, Kathryn. No.” He guides her body to him; she protests, chest heaving, furiously shaking her head before giving in. Letting the sorrow consume her, she slips bonelessly into his waiting arms. 

 

She hangs limp against him, the only thing she can do is release a few painful hitching sobs. Days worth of anguish and devastation threaten to pour from her.

 

“Your mother loved you dearly. And if you two are at all alike, that love was steadfast and fierce. Nothing could keep her spirit from feeling yours.” Kathryn’s hands snake around his waist, clutching the material of his undershirt with striking fervor. 

 

Chakotay presses her impossibly closer, as if he could simply squeeze the grief from her and absorb it as his own. 

 

“Your mother was not alone. I guarantee it,” he whispers against her hair, pressing a healing kiss to the crown of her head. “And neither are you. Not now. Not ever.” 

 

His admission increases the strength of her woe. She gasps and chokes against him. Focusing on suppressing her cries only makes more of a commotion. 

 

“Shh. Breathe. Just breathe.” Kathryn draws in a lungful of air, quaking and hiccuping in his hold. 

 

She can’t. The oxygen refuses to stay. Relieve the burn in her chest. Chakotay cannot be near enough, the thundering of his heart beats beneath her ear. He feels her scrabble for purchase, losing control. 

 

“I’m here, Kathryn. For what it’s worth. I’m here.” He can feel the heat of her breath and tears cascading over him. Seeping into his skin and his spirit. 

 

“I don’t—“ She whines, low in her throat. Shaking with the effort of keeping her speech even. “I can’t.” 

 

“What?” His hands come to her shoulder blades, cradling her to him, tucking her nose to the crook of his neck. 

 

“I can’t go back,” she laments. “Back to an Earth where my mother isn’t.” 

 

His heart nearly stops when he hears her say this. They’ve come so far. Too far for her to give in. To walk headstrong into the darkness. Kathryn sniffles against his skin and it electrifies him. Renews his need to protect her at all costs. Battling the demons that threaten to overtake her. 

 

She inhales deeply and delivers the final blow of her realization.

 

“Without her, it’s no longer home.”


End file.
